


something's set to start

by stonedgeralt



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Cunnilingus, Hook-Up, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Penetrative Sex, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Trans Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Unprotected Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:34:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28475478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stonedgeralt/pseuds/stonedgeralt
Summary: “Not used to compliments, huh?” Instead of climbing on top of him, like Geralt expects, Jaskier instead chooses to lie down on his back with his head on the pillows. “C’mon up here,” he says, patting the space beside him.Rolling his eyes, Geralt shifts until they’re beside each other. Now that he’s this close to getting what he came here for, his body is kicking into overdrive - he can feel dampness in the crotch of his sweatpants, and he’s starting to throb. Butno,Jaskier wants tocuddle.---Geralt's New Year's Eve hookup doesn't go quite as planned.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 44
Kudos: 425





	something's set to start

**Author's Note:**

> It's been two months since I wrote smut and I can never let that happen ever again. Anyway, here's some trans Geralt content to ring in the new year! (Pretend I posted this at 11:30PM on the 31st like I told myself I would.)
> 
> PLEASE ADVISE: As a trans man, I tried my hardest to make this an easy, comfortable read for transmasc folks, but some of the terminology I've used may cause distress/dysphoria.
> 
> Thanks so much to [Amanda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/brucespringsteen) for kindly reading this over at 2am ❤
> 
> Title is from "Poem for a New Year" by Matt Goodfellow from his book, _Carry Me Away._

As Geralt pulls up to the address he’d typed into his phone, he blinks in surprise. This can’t possibly be right, can it? The house is enormous, and there are dozens of cars parked along the street. Geralt pulls alongside the curb and puts his car in park while he tries to figure out where he’d taken a wrong turn. He reads the text again, then double-checks the address. They’re the same, somehow.

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters. He briefly considers leaving - it’s not too late to find another match for tonight. But he’d, er, gotten a bit of a head start before leaving his apartment, so he’s a bit riled up already. And now he’s going to have to deal with a crowd of people. “Fuck _,_ ” he repeats. “Goddammit.”

His phone vibrates. _You here?_

Geralt texts back, _Yeah. One minute._ He sighs, then unfastens his seat belt and exits his car. He makes sure to lock it, even though this neighborhood is one of the safest in the city, and Geralt doubts anyone would target his beat-up Mitsubishi over a BMW or a Range Rover. He feels horribly out of place here - the house looms over him like a beast waiting to pounce. Shivering lightly, Geralt pulls his coat tighter, then heads for the front door.

He can hear a deep, thumping bassline before he even steps onto the porch. Geralt doesn’t even get to knock: The door opens to reveal a man with chestnut hair and bright blue eyes. He has a cheery grin on his handsome face, which somehow just irritates Geralt even further.

The man’s greeting is barely audible over the music. He seems to realize this, because he steps out onto the porch and shuts the door behind him, muffling the noise.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “You’re Geralt, right?”

“Yeah. Jaskier?”

“Yep.”

Geralt hums. “Didn’t expect to find a party.”

Jaskier looks surprised and a bit sheepish. “I should’ve mentioned that, huh? It’s my friend’s vacation rental. I didn’t realize the party would get this big. Is it a problem?”

“I mean, I guess not.” Geralt shifts his weight from one foot to the other. He’s not here to talk. “Can we go in? It’s freezing out here.”

“Shit, yeah. Go ahead.” Jaskier gestures to the door and lets Geralt pass him. When they’re both inside, Jaskier is forced to yell over the music. “You want a drink? Something to eat?”

Geralt shakes his head. “I’m good,” he shouts back.

“We’ve got weed, too,” Jaskier offers.

“Yeah, I noticed.” There’s a thick haze of pungent smoke hanging over their heads. “Maybe later,” Geralt says, by which he means never - he’s not one to stick around after a hookup.

“Suit yourself.”

Jaskier rests his hand in the small of Geralt’s back to guide him through the crowd of drunken party-goers. In the next room, he points to a staircase, and Geralt makes a beeline for it, desperate to get away from the bodies pressing up against him. He waits for Jaskier on the landing, and Jaskier leads him to a bedroom on the second floor. 

“There we go,” Jaskier says. “Want me to lock the door?”

“Yeah.” Geralt heads for the bed, stripping off his coat and hoodie as he goes. He’s about to step out of his sweatpants when Jaskier stops him. Geralt gives him a questioning look.

Jaskier grins at him. “What’s the rush?” he asks. “Got another hookup after this?”

“No,” Geralt answers. “Why, would that bother you?”

“Not at all.” His grin turns a bit wicked. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did, and I also wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Er, thanks,” Geralt says, very aware that he’s blushing. 

“I mean,” Jaskier continues, “look at you. You’re gorgeous. I can’t believe how lucky I am.”

Geralt ignores the way his heart flips at that, and falls backwards onto the bed with a sigh. “Have at it,” he says, trying his best not to sound too bored.

“Not used to compliments, huh?” Instead of climbing on top of him, like Geralt expects, Jaskier instead chooses to lie down on his back with his head on the pillows. “C’mon up here,” he says, patting the space beside him.

Rolling his eyes, Geralt shifts until they’re beside each other. Now that he’s this close to getting what he came here for, his body is kicking into overdrive - he can feel dampness in the crotch of his sweatpants, and he’s starting to throb. But _no,_ Jaskier wants to _cuddle._

“So,” Jaskier says, “why were you looking for a hookup on New Year’s Eve?”

Geralt decides to give a straight answer instead of being snarky. Maybe it’ll help move things along. “Didn’t have any plans,” he says, “and didn’t feel like spending the night alone. What about you?”

“Same here,” Jaskier replies. There’s a tinge of sadness in his voice.

And Geralt gets it, that feeling of loneliness despite being surrounded by people. He suddenly regrets being so short with Jaskier. He scoots a little closer, pressing himself up against Jaskier’s side, and asks, “Can I kiss you?”

Jaskier smiles. “Yeah.”

He leans in, and Geralt kisses him gently, testing the waters before diving too deep. Jaskier, however, appears to have gotten with the program, and he kisses back hard and rough, the way Geralt had told him he likes it. Whining softly, Geralt brings one hand up to cup Jaskier’s face, sliding the other under his shirt and smoothing it over the planes of Jaskier’s stomach. He gasps when Jaskier nips his bottom lip, and his hips jerk forward.

Jaskier laughs, low and deep. “Eager, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Geralt says. “Want you.” He slings his leg over Jaskier’s hip, pulling them flush and moaning when he feels the bulge of Jaskier’s cock against his thigh. “Please.”

With a thoughtful hum, Jaskier brushes his lips along Geralt’s jaw, down his neck. “So polite, now,” he murmurs. “Being such a good boy for me.”

Geralt whines again. He hadn’t expected Jaskier to adjust to his preferences so easily; it feels natural, not stilted and forced like with previous hookups, and Geralt is definitely starting to enjoy himself now.

Jaskier’s hand moves down Geralt’s side, over the dip of his waist and the slight curve of his hip, before settling in the juncture of his thighs. He hums again, then sucks a bruise just above the collar of Geralt’s shirt. 

“Already wet,” he says fondly. “What do you need, baby?”

“Your dick,” Geralt answers. He nearly chokes when Jaskier cups him over his sweatpants, and he starts rocking his hips, searching for friction.

“Would you settle for my mouth?”

Geralt hopes his punched-out moan is a good enough answer. He hasn’t had someone go down on him in ages, and Jaskier is just… offering?

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Jaskier leaves a trail of tiny bruises down Geralt’s neck, leaving his chest alone as requested, and continuing down his stomach. He slips his fingers under the waistband of Geralt’s sweatpants and slips them down, slow and deliberate, grinning cheekily at Geralt. “No underwear, hm?”

“C’mon,” Geralt says, “quit teasing.” He rolls his hips, trying to look more inviting than desperate.

Jaskier kisses Geralt’s hip bones, then says, “Alright, alright. Guess I don’t want my meal to get cold.”

Geralt groans, hiding his face in his elbow as he tries not to laugh. Then he gasps as Jaskier finally pulls off his sweatpants and pushes his thighs apart roughly. Jaskier’s blue eyes have gone dark and hungry, a stark contrast from the gentle friendliness Geralt had seen in them earlier, and _fuck_ if that’s not the hottest thing ever.

“Can I make you come like this?” Jaskier asks. “Permission-wise, not ability-wise.”

“Yeah,” Geralt replies. “Thank you for asking.”

Jaskier presses a kiss to the inside of Geralt’s thigh. “Of course, baby.” He settles between Geralt’s parted thighs, his warm breath ghosting over Geralt’s cock. “Put your legs over my— there you go. Now, let’s see what kind of pretty noises you make.”

Geralt tries to warn Jaskier that he’s in for a surprise - he’s always loud in bed - but then his brain nearly short-circuits as Jaskier licks a slow stripe over his cunt. He moans loudly, toes curling as a shudder ripples down his spine. Jaskier does it again, pressing his tongue just inside of him, and Geralt tosses his head back and keens.

“Fuck,” Jaskier says, “I can’t tell if it’s good or—”

“It’s good,” Geralt gasps. “It’s so good, _please,_ Jaskier—”

Jaskier responds by sucking Geralt’s cock between his lips, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. He wraps his arms around Geralt’s thighs, probably to keep his hips from bucking - a very smart move - and reaches down to spread Geralt with his fingers. Geralt feels the faintest scrape of Jaskier’s teeth over his cock and can’t help the sound that escapes him. Jaskier is doing every single thing Geralt had mentioned he likes - calling him baby, asking for permission first, being just rough enough - and it’s absolutely perfect. The word _heaven_ floats through his muddled mind and Geralt lets it, because it’s not entirely inaccurate.

“Look at you,” Jaskier says breathlessly. He strokes his finger over Geralt’s cunt, coating it in slick while Geralt squirms. “So wet and pink, and your cock is so hard for me.”

“For you,” Geralt echoes. He brings his hand down to tangle his fingers in Jaskier’s hair, making sure to guide, not force. “Want you to fill me up, make me yours.”

 _Fuck,_ he hadn’t meant to say that. But Jaskier doesn’t flinch - if anything, Geralt’s admission only spurs him on.

“I will, baby, don’t worry.” Jaskier pulls one arm away from Geralt’s thigh, sliding it closer to his body. Then Geralt feels his finger again, circling his cunt, drawing back when Geralt moves his hips forward. He lowers his mouth to Geralt’s cock again, taking it in his mouth. He sucks hard and presses his finger inside at the same time.

Geralt throws his head back with a cry, dazedly thanking whatever deity is listening for the upholstered headboard. “More,” he says hoarsely. “I can take more, please…”

Jaskier pulls back long enough to murmur, “Good boy,” before sliding a second finger inside. Geralt can feel slick and saliva dripping down between his cheeks, and he’d probably be embarrassed if he weren’t so fucking desperate to come. He’s not even this loud, usually, and it’s very clear now that his previous partners had no idea what the hell they were doing. He’s never believed people who say they’ve had "mind-blowing" sex, but he’s about to become one of them.

At that moment, Jaskier does something with his tongue that makes the muscles in Geralt’s thighs spasm. He clenches around Jaskier’s fingers with a breathy whine.

“’M close,” Geralt says, words slurring like he’s drunk. “Jaskier, ‘m gonna come.”

Jaskier hums around his cock, sending sparks skittering down Geralt’s legs. He swirls his tongue and curls his fingers, and Geralt suddenly realizes that he can _hear_ how wet he is. That’s what sends him over the edge, his startled yelp fading into a shuddering moan as Jaskier continues to work his cunt. He doesn’t stop until Geralt goes boneless against the mattress. Then he presses quick little kisses along Geralt’s thighs, hips, and stomach, murmuring nonsense against his skin. Jaskier finally kisses him properly, and when Geralt tastes himself, his cock twitches.

“Was that good?” Jaskier asks, voice soft. He sounds almost nervous.

Geralt laughs. He feels so fond suddenly, his heart swelling at the sincerity in Jaskier’s expression. 

“Well?” Jaskier pokes Geralt’s shoulder. “I need feedback. What’s your review?”

“My review?” Geralt considers his answer for a moment. “Ten out of ten, wouldn’t change a thing, will definitely be back for more.”

Jaskier beams at him. “Come back anytime,” he says. “Really.”

“Well…” Geralt shifts onto his side and moves his hand to Jaskier’s cock, grinning when Jaskier’s breath hitches. “Maybe I should take care of this before I consider coming back, yeah?”

“How do you want me?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt sees that his eyes have gone dark again.

“On your back. I’m gonna ride you.”

“Oh, fuck,” Jaskier croaks.

“That’s the plan.”

Jaskier hurriedly shucks off his pants and briefs, then lies back, propping his shoulders against the pillows. Geralt stares at his cock in awe - he’d known it was big, but not _this_ big, and for a few moments he’s actually concerned about whether or not it’ll fit. He supposes there’s only one way to find out, and it’ll be an achievement if it works. Geralt straddles Jaskier’s hips, shuddering at the feeling of that thick cock pressed against him, and leans down for a long, thorough kiss. Then he leans back and reaches down to guide the head to his cunt. He rocks his hips a few times, sliding Jaskier’s cock over his own and gasping at the sensation.

“C’mon, baby,” Jaskier pleads, “let me fuck you, fill you up like I promised.”

Geralt eases himself down. He knows better than to rush this - the last thing he needs is an embarrassing ER visit on New Year’s Eve. He lets out an honest-to-god whimper when the head fills him. It’s so thick, already stretching him so wide, but Geralt wants more, wants it all inside of him. He just has to go slow. It’ll be worth it, that feeling of perfect fullness, and he wants to see Jaskier’s face when he takes that last inch.

Jaskier is encouraging him, smoothing his hands up Geralt’s thighs and over his hips, telling him how good he feels, so tight and wet around his cock. Geralt bites his lip as he sinks lower, bracing himself with his hands on Jaskier’s shoulders. It’s just on the edge of too much, but Geralt keeps going - he knows he can stop, but he doesn’t want to. Jaskier is breathing hard, his eyes flicking up and down between his dick and Geralt’s face, his expression one of reverential awe. 

“Good boy,” he murmurs. “Oh, good boy, Geralt.”

The air leaves Geralt’s lungs in a rush when he finally bottoms out. Jaskier’s mouth falls open and his eyes roll back. Geralt can feel Jaskier’s muscles tensing and relaxing as he tries not to buck his hips, and maybe it’s the sudden lack of oxygen to his brain, but Geralt thinks maybe he might love Jaskier a little bit. He leans down again for another kiss, whining when Jaskier’s cock shifts inside him. He rolls his hips gently, once, twice, and then settles into a rhythm. He’s so _full_ \- it’s fucking sublime, and that’s a word Geralt never thought he’d use to describe sex.

“Just like that,” Jaskier says, and his voice lights a fire in Geralt’s chest. “You’re taking me so well, baby, like you were made to ride my dick.”

“Feels so good,” Geralt gasps. “You’re so big, _fuck_ —”

Jaskier squeezes Geralt’s ass, just this side of painful, just the way Geralt wants. “Be a good boy and make me come.”

Geralt starts bouncing lightly, moaning at the change in pace. He moves his hips in a circle and laughs breathlessly when Jaskier lets loose a string of curses. He can’t believe he’s close again already, and he knows for certain that this one will turn him to mush. Geralt leans forward, then, planting his hands on the pillows on either side of Jaskier’s head. He tucks and rolls his hips, drawing a ragged moan from Jaskier’s throat. Geralt can feel him starting to lose control of his muscles.

“You can move,” he says. “You won’t break me.”

Jaskier makes a low, rough sound that’s not quite a growl, but has the same effect on Geralt. His cunt throbs and they moan together, and Jaskier starts matching Geralt’s movements, meeting him perfectly. He reaches between them to rub Geralt’s cock with his thumb, and Geralt cries out as his hips falter. Jaskier looks up at him, and even glazed over with lust, his eyes are so, so blue. Geralt whines, a desperate sound, and Jaskier understands.

“That’s it, Geralt,” he says. “Come for me, baby.”

Geralt’s voice breaks on the sound he makes as he comes for the second time, his thighs locked tight around Jaskier’s hips as he shakes. Jaskier keeps fucking him, his movements quick and graceless as he chases his release.

“Come in me,” Geralt manages to say, and he doesn’t need to repeat himself. Jaskier comes with a hoarse shout, gripping Geralt’s hips so tightly that he knows he’ll have bruises in the morning. Geralt gasps as he feels Jaskier’s cock twitch and spill inside him. Yeah, he probably shouldn’t be letting a man he’s only known for half an hour come in him, but that’s something future Geralt can deal with.

They come down together. Then Geralt lies back while Jaskier searches the room for a towel. He cleans Geralt first, as gently as he can, and lets him know where the bathroom is if he wants to shower. Geralt declines, choosing instead to pull Jaskier down until their lips meet. Jaskier follows him down, lying half atop him while they share warm, soft kisses, basking in what is definitely the nicest afterglow Geralt has ever experienced.

The music downstairs stops abruptly, and Geralt hears people shouting the countdown. He kisses Jaskier’s forehead _(_ _five_ _)_ and his nose _(_ _four_ _)_ , one cheek _(_ _three_ _)_ and then the other _(_ _two_ _)_ , ending at his smiling mouth _(_ _one_ _)_. 

“Happy New Year,” he murmurs. 

“And what a way to ring it in,” Jaskier teases. His expression turns soft, then. “Thanks for driving all the way out here. I had a good time.”

“Me, too.” Geralt bites his lip. “Could we… do this again, sometime?”

“Absolutely,” Jaskier says eagerly. “I’d love to see you again. Someplace a bit more private, and we could even do an actual date, if you want.”

Ignoring the instinctive alarm that sounds in his head at the word _date,_ Geralt replies, “Sure. That sounds really nice.”

“Good.” Jaskier kisses his forehead. “I’m already looking forward to it.”

Geralt blushes. He’s not usually one for post-coital snuggles, but his limbs still feel like jelly, and Jaskier is very warm. “I can’t stay long,” he says. “My cat will destroy my apartment.”

Jaskier laughs softly. “That’s alright. I’ll walk you to your car when you’re ready.”

“Thanks.” 

After a brief nap and two bottles of water - plus a few more kisses in between - Geralt finally drags himself out of bed and gets dressed again. At Jaskier’s insistence, he uses the bathroom while Jaskier cleans up the room as best as he can. Then Jaskier escorts him to his car, one arm around Geralt’s waist as they walk through the yard. He presses Geralt up against the passenger door and kisses him, slow and deep, until Geralt starts to feel heat coiling in his belly again.

“Hey,” he says, “I’ve gotta go.”

Jaskier sighs. “I know.” 

Geralt unlocks the car and crosses to the driver’s side. He rolls down window so that Jaskier can give him one final kiss.

“Happy New Year, Jaskier,” he says.

Jaskier smiles fondly and replies, “Happy New Year, Geralt. Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” Geralt pulls up directions back to his apartment on his phone. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.” Jaskier steps away from the car, and Geralt puts the car in drive and pulls away from the curb. When he glances in his rear view mirror, Jaskier is waving cheerily. Laughing, Geralt sticks his arm out the open window and waves back. Then he quickly rolls the window back up.

“Fuckin’ _freezing,_ ” he mutters, turning the heat to full blast.

As he drives through the city, Geralt catches glimpses of celebratory fireworks. Traffic is terrible, and he doesn’t get home until after one. He trudges through the door of his apartment, tossing his coat over the back of the couch while Roach paws at his leg, meowing urgently. He scoops a bit of food and a few treats into her dish before heading to his bedroom.

He remembers to text Jaskier just before he falls asleep: _Made it home. Thanks for tonight._

The reply is almost instantaneous: _Thank YOU, Geralt. Hope to see you again soon. Sleep well._

Geralt sets his phone on the bedside table, then pats Roach, who’s curled up on her designated pillow, snoring softly. He finds himself wondering if Jaskier likes cats (hopefully), and whether Roach would like Jaskier (probably not). Then he wonders where Jaskier will suggest they go on their date.

“Holy shit,” Geralt whispers. “I’m going on a _date_.”

Roach flicks her ear in annoyance.

“Happy New Year, Roach,” Geralt says softly. “I think it’s gonna be a good one.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come chat with me on Twitter [@stonedgeralt](https://twitter.com/stonedgeralt)!


End file.
